Andrew Taylor - Bleeding Heart Square

Tuesday, 8 April 1930

I tried to keep myself busy while Joseph was in London. He drove to Bishop’s Stortford all by himself, and took the train from there .

Of the two maids, Rebecca will, I think, prove a tower of strength. She is a little slow and sullen, as these country folk are apt to be, but she is a sensible woman and knows what she is about. I am less certain about young Amy, who seems rather sly and surly. She broke one of the Royal Doulton teacups as she was unpacking — how furious Aunt would have been! — and then tried to pretend it wasn’t her fault. Rebecca tells me that Amy’s mother used to work at the Hall too, but unfortunately she seems not to have passed on what she learned to her daughter!

All the while today I was listening out for the sound of the car on the drive. But Joseph didn’t come back until after teatime. He swept in, in a very jolly mood, apologizing for his lateness, saying the train had been delayed. When he embraced me, I thought I smelled an unfamiliar perfume on his collar. And there was a long, fine hair on his jacket. I pointed this out to him and he became quite heated. He said there had been two little girls in the compartment of his train and the hair must have been one of theirs, and probably the perfume was on one of the cushions .

I am afraid I allowed my wretched jealousy to run away with me and burst into angry tears. After a while, Joseph pulled me onto his knee and soothed me as if I were a child. That made me weep all the more at first but soon all was smiles again!

While this was going on, poor Jacko had no idea what was happening and was running to and fro and getting underneath our feet and barking and whining. He was much happier when he saw that his master and mistress were the best of friends again .

Later, as we were waiting for Rebecca to bring in our supper — I hesitate to call it dinner — Joseph produced two little packages, one for me and one for Jacko. Mine was a beautiful silk scarf from Liberty’s with a Japanese design on it. As for Jacko, he is now the proud owner of a smart new green leather collar with a brass buckle and seven shiny brass stars on it. Joseph said the collar made him look like a ferocious guard dog. How we laughed!

How you laugh too. He fooled everyone. Even Jacko.

Finding Mrs Renton was harder than Lydia had expected. She wasn’t in her room all day. That in itself was not unusual because she often visited her clients, who were scattered across London, and sometimes would work in their homes. Mrs Renton returned to Bleeding Heart Square at some point in the evening but it was too late to call on her.

The following day, Wednesday, Lydia was at Shires and Trimble. The job was becoming less of an ordeal than it had been. Mr Reynolds had decided that Lydia was quite useful for a woman. She had what he called a refined telephone manner and was also capable of understanding his filing system.

As for the others, Marcus’s roses had effected a decisive shift in the balance of power in the general office. Miss Tuffley confided to Lydia that Smethwick could be ‘an awfully vulgar little tyke’ and that he had had too much cider and been a bit fresh with her on the firm’s summer outing in July, which frankly was a bit thick. She also volunteered the opinion that ‘Us girls should stick together.’ It wasn’t just the roses that had done it. It was also the realization that Lydia had some sort of a connection with godlike males who were ferried around in silver Bentleys driven by uniformed chauffeurs.

Mr Shires came in at nine thirty. He greeted everyone and walked rapidly into the private office. Lydia gave him ten minutes and then picked up her notepad and tapped on his door. He was standing at the big desk with the waste-paper basket beside him, working his way through the morning’s post.

‘May I have a word, sir?’

He glanced at his wristwatch. ‘Very well. I can only spare you a moment, though.’

Lydia closed the door behind her. ‘I wanted to ask your advice on a personal matter.’

He frowned. ‘That’s a little unusual.’ He walked round the desk to his chair. ‘You’d better sit down.’ He pulled a small white paper bag towards him and helped himself to a peppermint.

‘I want a divorce,’ Lydia said.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘A divorce.’

‘Bless my soul. Mrs Langstone, have you any idea what that would entail?’

‘That’s one reason I’ve come to see you, sir. So I can find out.’ She paused but Shires said nothing. ‘I’m living with my father because I have left my husband. I left him because he hit me.’

‘Dear me. I’m sorry to hear that. Were there any witnesses?’

Lydia shook her head. ‘However, he has also committed adultery.’

Shires leant back. ‘Oh dear. On the surface that would certainly be grounds for divorce. But you would have to prove it.’ He sucked on his mint, and Lydia heard a faint squelching sound. ‘Are you able to do that, Mrs Langstone? And, if you are, are you prepared for your private life, as well as that of your husband, to be discussed in court? There’s no such thing as a quiet divorce, you know, even if you could persuade your husband to — ah — cooperate. There tends to be an unhealthy interest in these matters, particularly if the principals have any connection with the peerage. The publicity would be distressing.’

Lydia noted the fact that somebody had told Shires about her family. Serridge or her father? She said, ‘And the cost?’

‘It would not be cheap. Going to the law is always an expensive business.’ He smiled complacently at her. ‘Fortunately for us lawyers.’

‘If I could raise the money, however, and if I could get the evidence, there’s no reason why I shouldn’t go ahead with the divorce?’

‘These are big conditions. Yes, though. All things being equal. Since the most recent Matrimonial Causes Act, a woman is entitled to petition for divorce on the grounds of the husband’s adultery. Until then a woman could only sue for divorce on those grounds if it were aggravated by the man’s desertion or his cruelty to her. But in your case there might be another complication. If I understand matters aright, it is not he who has deserted you, but you who have deserted him.’

‘Because he attacked me.’

‘So you say. We come back to the question of proof. Or of your husband’s willingness to admit guilt.’

Lydia drew a little gallows on the notepad and adorned it with a stick figure of a man. ‘But if I were able to find the money and the evidence, would you be able to help me deal with this?’

Shires stared coldly across the desk. ‘It is not the sort of work we usually undertake, Mrs Langstone. Nor do I feel happy about the prospect of one of my employees appearing in a divorce court. I have this firm’s reputation to consider. And there’s still the matter of the money and the evidence you would need. These are not matters to be taken lightly.’

Lydia stood up. ‘Then I take it you are not willing to help?’

Mr Shires sighed. ‘I wish you young people wouldn’t leap to conclusions. I haven’t said I will help you, and I haven’t said I won’t. All I have done is point out some of the problems that you will need to resolve if you decide to go ahead with the matter, including the fact that it may affect your position with this firm. What I will say is this: I will consider what you have said and let you know my decision in due course. Now would you be so good as to ask Mr Reynolds to spare me a moment?’